


Never Felt Like Christmas ('Til I Spent it With You)

by notyourdaydream



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Bookstores, Christmas, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, M/M, Vogue Employee Kurt Hummel, partly based off a tiktok cause what's new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourdaydream/pseuds/notyourdaydream
Summary: “Christmas is just a commercial holiday that forces people into believing the way to show love is to buy gifts for one another.”“So you don’t like Christmas trees?”In which a Grinch and a Christmas lover find holiday solace and understanding.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson & Sam Evans, Blaine Anderson & Tina Cohen-Chang, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel & Mercedes Jones & Santana Lopez, Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Tina Cohen-Chang/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Never Felt Like Christmas ('Til I Spent it With You)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm a bit of a Christmas junkie. I listen to holiday tunes in July, put my Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving, watch Hallmark movies throughout the year. So I started watching Dash and Lily on Netflix and was like "this is perfect for Kurt and Blaine." I changed up quite a few parts, but if you've seen the show you'll recognize the parts I did keep in. This is shaping up to be my first multi-chapter fic! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (See the end of the work for more notes.)

_City sidewalk, busy sidewalks_

_dressed in holiday style._

_In the air there's_

_a feeling of Christmas._

Working at a bookstore has its perks.

For instance, it’s pretty low maintenance. Just point customers to the right aisle and bam! Employee of the month. Two, the coffee in bookstore break rooms is the best in New York. Mr. Alpin bought an espresso machine two months ago, and the tea shade wearing hipsters that Blaine works with know exactly how to press the coffee to get the best taste. 

Last, and most obvious; the books. Thousands of books. They tower over Blaine’s head (and no, not just because he’s short.) Stacked in precarious piles, there really is no order to how some of them are strewn around the store. Mr. Alpin believes in what he calls ‘organized messes’ which really means he never found an organization system that stuck. But it’s completely fine with Blaine. He likes hiding his favorite books in obscure places- in between articles about blind amphibians or thick encyclopedias covering the history of homosexuality. 

He spends his break curled up in a place he calls The Start, a small corner of the store where he’s made a sort of cubicle of books. He’ll grab a fresh latte and let his head fill with other worlds. Stuffy historical dramas or superhero comics, Blaine’s happy reading whatever genre his mind decides on.

The past few weeks though, he’s only been reading romance novels.

He didn’t even realize it until his coworker and work girlfriend, Tina, interrogated him during closing.

“Who is he?” She asked, not looking up from haphazardly shoving fallen books back onto the shelves.

“Who is who?” Blaine doesn’t stop either. Tina has this thing where she’s really obsessed with his love life, to an almost creepy degree. It weirded him out when he first started working at The End, but now he expects these conversations at least once a month. It’s kind of sweet that she cares so much about something so lackluster. 

“The guy you’re dating. You read so many sappy love stories nowadays, so he must be The One. I’m really happy for you, even if it means I can’t be your work girlfriend anymore.” Tina grins.

For once, Blaine’s bewildered. “I’m not dating anybody, Tina. I would’ve told you if there was a new guy in my life.”

“So what’s up with the romance novels?” Tina turns to face him now, sharing his confused stare.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Bullshit! I saw you reading _Pride and Prejudice_ last week. And you were flipping through _To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before_ earlier today,” Tina accuses into the empty store.

“So a guy can’t appreciate timeless romance novels now? Is Tina Cohen-Chang trying to force hetero normativity onto me?” Blaine rolls his eyes playfully and walks off towards the break room. Tina follows, pushing past him to shrug her turquoise coat on. She points at him with an electric purple glove, feigning seriousness.

“That doesn’t work on me cause I’m a lesbian.” She laughs, slipping her forearm with Blaine’s so they can walk out. “Also, TATBILB is hardly a classic. I’m just saying, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you there’s a new guy coming your way soon.” She kisses his cheeks before walking towards the bus stop, leaving her words to float in the space between his ears.

Tina’s just projecting her dumb lovestruck-ness onto him, Blaine concludes. She’s been dating Quinn before he met her at The End, but they seem to have never left that honeymoon phase. If the entire world was just one giant book, Blaine would be the side character, the gay guy all straight women thirst over. He’s sorta just there to serve the main character’s dilemma. Like when his old high school friend Sam moved from Ohio to New York on a whim two years ago, Blaine let him crash at his place until he found a job and got a place. And he’s still staying at his place, even though he has a job at the video game store down the block. Anyway. That’s who Blaine is. He doesn’t mind, helping his friends with their lives is his thing. It doesn’t mean there aren’t nights where his mind wanders, where he dreams the most perfect boyfriend to lay next to him. Or that he won’t make up incredibly elaborate scenarios based on random guys he’ll see on the subway, like what if the train jolted and it threw him back into a guy’s chest, and he turns to him and leans down and-

Anyway. Tina’s just projecting. Yeah.

~

Working at a bookstore is a slow job. It’s only really busy early in the mornings, when the older people stroll in looking for WW2 memoirs, or the afternoon when high school students giggle and college students desperately tray and study on the lofty second floor. Blaine spends most of his time at the info desk, directing people to the right aisle (hopefully, even he forgets where he puts the books sometimes) or reading. Mr. Alpin is weird, as in he takes everyone’s phones until break time, like a high school math teacher. Each morning he says, “A book is like a good lover, you never tire of them.” Mr. Alpin, a spindly Jewish man in his seventies, always has some saying. Half of them make any sense, but Blaine appreciates his geriatric ways.

“What can I help you with?” Blaine sticks a bookmark into his book (because dog earring your pages is a cardinal sin), and glances up. “Oh, hey Sam.”

“Roomie! How are you?” Sam smiles. Always lopsided, Blaine’s noticed over the years.

“Good, wondering what you need,” Blaine says.

“I’m moving out.” Sam scratches his head, glancing down at the floor.

Blaine just gapes at him. Sam? Moving out? He had never mentioned even _finding_ a place, and Sam tells him everything. Blaine had been hoping Sam would ask him about looking for an apartment soon though. They were older, and he was still scarred from coming home to see Sam and some random girl on their couch. Their shared couch.

“That’s really awesome, Sam. What apartment number?” 

“Apartment number? I’m moving with Artie to a place in Chinatown,” Sam says.

“What? Chinatown? That’s so far, Sam!”

“It’s a thirty minute walk.” Sam shrugs.

“But still!” Blaine knows he’s being childish, but he honestly can’t help it. Sam’s been with him since freshman year. Nobody else at Dalton got his comic book references or dreams of being on a stage. He was the first person he told he was gay, after the incident in 8th grade. “Well, at least we’ll get to shit on Christmas under the same roof, one last time, right?”

Sam blushes. “Actually, I uh, saved up enough to go home for Christmas this year, Blaine. Sorry, man.”

Blaine’s stomach sinks. In the two years Sam has lived with him, they spent Christmas together. Sam could never afford the ticket home to Tennessee, so they spent the day bitterly complaining about the holiday season. Sam not-so-secretly really enjoys Christmas, but not being able to go home put a dent in his mood annually. They would try gross yuletide flavored liquors and trade gag gifts. They were the best two Christmases Blaine has had in a while. And now Sam’s going home.

“Sam! That’s great man. Have fun, okay?” Blaine smiles, hoping it’s enough to mask his sadness.

“I’ll send you a card. Listen, I’ve gotta go okay?” Sam reaches over the counter to grasp Blaine’s shoulders, shaking them slightly. “I’ll see you at your place, alright?” And with that, he’s off, nearly crashing into a small table of poetry books on the way out.

Blaine groans. _Your place._ This is going to be a long holiday.

~

Blaine spends most of his lunch break lamenting to Tina about his new living situation (“He should’ve at least _told_ me before moving out! What if I can’t pay rent? Don’t you _dare_ give me that look, Tina Cohen-Chang.”) so he’s less than thrilled to be greeted by a long line at the information desk.

It’s mostly a group of teenagers, fresh off their midterm high and asking if they sold coffee. Which they don’t. So Blaine points them directions to the nearest Starbucks, because sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds probably haven’t grown to love hand ground, ethically sourced cups of joe.

So he doesn’t even glance up when the line dwindles down to one person. He keeps his eyes down, scanning through his worn copy of _Like Water for Chocolate,_ and says, “Did you not hear the directions? Just type the name into your phone.”

“Oh, no.” The customer gives a breathy laugh and continues, “I actually need help with a book.”

When Blaine finally tears his eyes away from the page, he’s met with the warm stare of sea glass blue eyes. The man in front of him is tall, taller than him he can tell, with coiffed chestnut hair that gives him a sort of timeless look. His cheeks are flushed red from the New York chill, hands stuffed into the pockets of a dark gray peacoat. Blaine’s just staring back and blinks away a few seconds too late. 

“What can I help you with?” His voice comes out a bit squeaky, and Blaine wants to punch his voice box.

If he notices that Blaine sounds like a kid who’s balls just dropped, the man doesn’t comment. “I was wondering if you could help me find this book? I’ve looked everywhere but...” The man thrusts his phone out, with a screenshot of a Barbra Streisand memoir. 

“Uh, yeah. I think we have that, follow me.” Blaine stands and walks off toward their small theater section, not checking to see if the hot guy’s following him. It gives him a moment to run his fingers through his hair, hidden between the tall rosewood shelves. The man catches up to him eventually.

“There you are! You move fast for someone so short,” he says, and Blaine’s almost offended, because if there’s one thing he hates, it’s when people crack jokes about his height. But then the man’s eyes widen and he slaps a hand to his mouth. “I’m so sorry, that was incredibly rude. You aren’t short, I’m just freakishly tall.”

“That’s okay, I am a little on the small side,” the man blows air out of his nose and fixes his eyes on the floor. “And you aren’t scarily tall. We’re almost the same height, see?” Blaine raises himself onto his tiptoes, which doesn’t help at all. He’s almost embarrassed until he sees the man smile- God, that _smile_ \- if it takes Blaine acting like an idiot to see a smile like that, he’d gladly join the circus.

They spend a few seconds just smiling at each other, with the beautiful guy’s cheeks dusted rose. Blaine has to remember what he’s here for. Was it _Hamilton_? No, no, it was the _Dear Evan Hansen_ gallery, wasn’t it? Jeez, he thinks, we really need to think of an actual organization system, this is a nightmare. He’s beginning to silently freak out, because it must look like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, which he doesn’t half the time, but-

“Here it is!” The man plucks the Barbra Streisand autobiography from a shelf above Blaine’s head, and of course it’s Barbra. Blaine stands up from his crouch, trying to think of something to say, but the man walks off before he can open his mouth. He’s standing in front of the info desk by the time Blaine slides behind the counter.

“You have great taste in Broadway legends, though I suggest reading Richard Rodgers’ _Musical Stages_.” Blaine says as he scans the book’s barcode.

“Oh yeah?” the man says, in a way that it feels like a challenge. Blood rushes to Blaine’s face. “Got any more recommendations?”

“Yeah.”

Blaine hands the guy his book, and he slips him a small piece of paper in return, folded in half.

“Maybe you should call me sometime? To, you know, give me some more suggestions?” The man bites down on his lip in a smile. And with that, he’s gone, walking out of the doors and down the street. 

Blaine stares lamely even after he’s left. _Did that really just happen to me?_

“He was cute, what’s his name?” Tina yells from the stairs above him. She’s leaning over the banister comfortably, eyebrows raised, and Blaine realizes she’s been there for a while. He cringes, turning around and willfully ignoring the stares of disturbed customers. He glances down at the paper. There’s a number written on it, and a name written in a slightly messy scrawl. 

“Kurt.”

Looks like Blaine Anderson just got a new storyline.

~

Kurt is reeling.

He doesn’t _do_ what he just did- ask random guys out on dates. Though, in his defense, random guys don’t look as cute as that one did. With unruly black hair and adorable cardigans hiding his built frame, Kurt’s lucky he even remembered his own number.

He takes the subway up to East Harlem and spends all twenty-five minutes praying the stranger he gave his number out to was gay. He’s freaking out all the way to Santana’s apartment, trying to calm his nerves before she swings the door open.

“Lady Hummel!” Santana wraps Kurt into a quick hug, ushering him inside.

He gives Mercedes a kiss on the cheek, before dropping his bag on the floor and sinking next to her on a velvet red sofa. He checks his messages and sighs. No text from cute guy.

“What’s wrong boo?” In the ten years of their friendship, Mercedes has always known when something was up with Kurt. Even halfway across the country in L.A., all he had to do was make a noncommittal noise, and she was ready to drop everything.

“Nothing,” he replies, deciding to ignore her ‘bitch please’ stare.

“Bitch, please!” Santana comes from the kitchen, handing him and Mercedes a glass of whiskey before settling next to Mercedes on the loveseat. 

“Santana!”

“It’s about a boy,” Santana takes a sip, making Kurt squirm under her gaze. “Don’t try and lie to me. I’ll find out soon.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. Santana is a total bitch (which she takes as a compliment), but he loves her. Nobody is a better judge of character.

Kurt’s phone rings, and his heart stops. He scrambles to pick it up from the coffee table, checking the caller ID. He doesn’t know the bookstore guy’s number, but nobody really calls him near the holidays anyway…

“Hey, little bro! And is that Santana and Mercedes?” 

Kurt sighs. “Hello, Finn.” he places his phone against the stack of books on Santana’s table. “What’s going on?” 

If Kurt was still in the business of crushing on straight guys, Finn would be at the top of his list (besides the fact that they’re step brothers). At twenty-eight, he has small smile lines around his eyes, but the same boy-next-door smile from high school. He finally let Kurt take him to an actual barbershop (“No self-respecting adult still lets their mom cut their hair, Finn.”), so it’s less of a spiky mess. 

“Just putting some finishing touches on this number for the New Directions. Mike came by to help with the dancing,” Finn says. “I uh, have something to tell you.” He goes off screen.

Kurt can’t stop his heart from racing. Did something happen with his dad? Carole? He’s already lost one parent, and then almost lost the other twice. His heart cannot take anymore family troubles, especially so close to Christmas.

Finn comes back on screen, holding something very obviously behind his back. “So Rachel’s birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get her something really special-”

“Oh my god, you did not.” Mercedes leans forward, slapping Kurt on the shoulder. Santana grips Kurt’s hand, stomping her feet.

“I did!” From behind his hand, Finn displays a black ring box. 

The girls shriek, shaking Kurt back and forth between them. After the initial shock wears off, Kurt’s nearly screaming too. Like, his best friend and his brother, finally getting married!

“Okay, okay. Rachel is coming home to see her dads. So I’m gonna give her a tour of McKinley, because we did some renovations and it looks really great and... Anyway! Then I’ll lead her to the auditorium, and the glee club will be there singing, and I’ll get down on one knee and hope she says yes,” Finn explains, swaying back and forth on his feet.

“She’ll say yes,” Kurt says. He truly believes she’s only loved Finn her whole entire life. Jesse, Brody, that random dancer from _Funny Girl_. They were all side characters for her to realize you don’t find a Finn every day.

“I hope you’re right. I have to go, okay? I’ll tell Mr. Schue you guys said hi. See you next year, Kurt.” Finn waves before hanging up, hand taking up the screen. Santana downs the rest of her whiskey before turning to Kurt.

“See you next year? You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

“No. My dad and Carole are going to Jamaica for Christmas,” Kurt huffs. He could hardly believe it when they told him during Thanksgiving. Hell, he can hardly believe it now.

“You know we never had a honeymoon,” Burt had said, settling into his recliner to watch football.

“So you’re going out of the country? On Christmas?” Kurt cried from the kitchen, turning to face Carole. She patted his arm sympathetically.

“Sorry, honey. But you get to spend the holiday in New York City! I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,”

“But I don’t want to spend the holidays there. I want to spend it with my _family_!” Kurt resisted the urge to stomp his foot.

“Son, you’ve done it once, you can do it again,” Burt said, finality in his voice.

“So I’ll be all alone. On Christmas,” Kurt murmurs.

Santana picks up the cups, heading to her sink. “You won’t be alone. Brit and I will still be here. And Mercedes doesn’t leave for like, another week.”

“Brittany’s coming back?” Mercedes asks.

“Yeah. Filming wrapped up yesterday, so she’ll be home in a day or two.” Santana says, features going soft. Brittany has been in L.A. for a few months now, dancing backup for music videos and teaching a six week contemporary dance camp.

“That’s great Santana, but I don’t wanna impose-” Kurt’s phone interrupts him. “-Hello?”

“Hi. This is Blaine, from the bookstore.”

Kurt shoots up, moving to an area where he can pace. “Hi. I’m Kurt. I don’t think I said that earlier.”

“It was on the paper,” The voice replies.

“Oh.” Kurt looks up from his shoes to see Mercedes and Santana shooting confused glances his way. He holds up a finger as Blaine speaks again.

“Well, you said you wanted some more book recs. I have a lot.”

“Oh! Well, that book actually wasn’t for me. My friend, Rachel, her birthday’s coming up, and I think this is the only Barbra Streisand book she doesn’t own. But now I’m thinking this book will soon be forgotten,” there’s a beat of silence. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? I gave you my number cause... cause I’d really like to go out with you sometime.” Kurt takes a deep breath, wishing he could hear an answer in the silence.

“I’d really like that. We could go to The Bean tomorrow, around twelve?” Blaine says.

Kurt bites back a grin. “It’s a date.” Santana snaps and points in his direction.

“It’s a date. See you, Kurt,” Blaine says, hanging up.

“What did I tell you? What did I tell you?” Santana says, emphasizing her point with claps.

Mercedes takes a softer approach. “What was that, Kurt?”

He whispers, as if saying it louder would make his plans dissipate like fog. “I have a date.” 

~

Kurt gets to The Bean a few minutes late- the train stopped more places than he expected- to find Blaine sitting inside. He looks nervous, blowing his hands even though it’s probably warm inside. He spends a few moments just looking at him through the fogged window, before realizing he must look like a total creep. Pulling the door open, the warm air and scent of caffeine greets him like an old friend.

“Kurt!” Blaine calls from the small line near the register. He looks nice, dressed in black jeans and a pink sweater vest, with a tight white shirt layered underneath, exposing the biceps Kurt wanted so badly to see yesterday.

“What do you want to drink? I didn’t want to order for you,” Blaine says.

“I’ll have a peppermint mocha, extra peppermint,” Kurt replies, speaking more to Blaine than the apron-wearing barista in front of them.

“Alright! An extra peppermint-y mocha for my friend here,” Blaine pulls out his card as he speaks. “And a soy latte for me, please.”

“I could’ve paid for my own,” Kurt mumbles. He’s learned how overpriced coffee is in New York and doesn’t want Blaine to pay for his. Plus, he asked Blaine out.

“Well, hopefully next time we can switch it up.” Blaine says, handing Kurt his drink and walking past him to their table.

The thought of a next time sends heat through Kurt’s face. God, he really needs to get out and touch the grass. He hasn’t been on a date, at least a date he feels good about, in a long time.

“So,” Blaine takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, “you said on the phone your friend is a die-hard Streisand fan?”

“Well, those weren’t the exact words, but yes, Rachel’s a fan. I think her dads bred her to be one since birth.”

Blaine laughs, lash-fringed eyes crinkling. “So I’m guessing you’re a Broadway fan too?”

“I am. I actually came here wanting to be on Broadway. But my dream school, NYADA, rejected me, so I decided to go into fashion instead. I work at Vogue.” Kurt gestures towards his body, blushing as Blaine travels his gaze back up slowly.

“So you’re a fashion expert and a performer. Impressive, Kurt.”

“Well, _expert_ is a bit of a stretch,” Kurt giggles, then blushes because he fucking giggled like a twelve-year-old. “But thank you. I hate to brag, but my high school was kind of a breeding ground for natural talent.”

“Okay, you can’t say that and not explain.”

Over the course of their date, Kurt and Blaine share stories back and forth about their high school experience. Kurt’s excited to hear about Dalton Academy after revealing he almost transferred there. Blaine’s horrified at the enigma that is Vice President Sue Sylvester. Kurt figures it must be a little illegal to talk about a Vice President’s crimes against humanity, so he hushes his tone. He’s shocked to find so much in common with Blaine. They’re both from Ohio and were in glee clubs, being on stage were once both dreams of theirs. Kurt thinks Blaine is great, and the date is going so much better than he could’ve planned. 

Drinks cold, Blaine offers to walk Kurt to the subway station, which Kurt obviously accepts. He’s pushed for time, and even though Isabelle doesn’t mind if he’s a bit late, he’s trying to shake the habit. Kurt grabs his MetroCard and slides through the turnstile, turning to face Blaine through the small gate to his right.

“Would you like to do this again sometime? I know this cute Christmas market in TriBeCa,” Kurt says. There are always cute clothes and the scent of ginger wafting through the air at the market. It’s one of his favorite places to go before he takes his flight back to Ohio, and Carole always appreciates the spices they can use for Christmas dinner.

Kurt and Blaine had gotten along really well in the past hour, stealing glances at each other, knocking hands on the walk toward the station. He was sure the market would be a cute second date. They could shop for their friends or family, huddling up close with nothing but hot cocoa and each other to keep warm. Nothing can prepare Kurt for what Blaine says next.

“I actually kind of hate Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Songs in the chapter:  
> Title- Never Felt Like Christmas by Lizzo  
> Silver Bells (I always listen to the version by Stevie Wonder)


End file.
